Country is as country does, and in 2019 it was busy having a very good year in the UK. The mega-festival C2C continued to pack out arenas, with alumni like Luke Combs and Ashley McBryde selling out their own headline gigs; young upstarts like Colter Wall and Tyler Childers made some noise, hit film Wild Rose saw Jessie Buckley dazzle as an aspiring country singer – and no-nonsense Kentucky native Sturgill Simpson turned the genre on its head with his fourth album, Sound & Fury.

Leonard Cohen’s death, just as Trump finagled his way into the White House, was the cruellest of blows. Now more than ever we need his bitter, witty, ironic commentary and wry observations, his wonderful words delivered in that bottomless “golden voice” which on this, his final posthumous album, is deeper than ever. There are many who came late to Cohen, the man lampooned in the 1970s and ‘80s as “Laughing Lenny” and “Captain Mandrax”.

2019 has been quite the year. Amongst other difficulties being a grown-up hurls at you on the reg, I lost my guiding light (may her adventures on the other side of this universe be everything and more). And the testing times that ensued sees me now, not only into the new decade but into a big fat birthday that ends with a "0".

A trio of standout US vocal jazz releases included one of the year’s most hotly anticipated albums, Jazzmeia Horn’s Love and Liberation, which showcased the Dallas-born vocalist’s ever-deepening artistry and songwriter’s ear for detail. Horn’s eight originals encapsulated the sense of joyousness, playfulness and vitality that course through her music.

Up until a couple of weeks ago, I had every intention of making Songs Of Our Native Daughters featuring Rhiannon Giddens, Leyla McCalla, Allison Russell and Amythyst Kiah my Album of the year. It’s a solid work of great beauty, elegance and substance. But you can read my thoughts on it elsewhere on The Arts Desk. And the album is number eight in Rolling Stone’s Top 40 of the year, as well as being Iggy Pop’s personal album of the year, so more waffle on it from me is neither here nor there.

The highs in a year of music come at the most unexpected moments: I was sitting at a beach restaurant in Spain, earlier this month, sharing a seabass with PP Arnold, former Ikette and soul star of the sixties who’s re-invented herself decade after decade, and released an excellent and varied album earlier this year The Further Adventures of PP Arnold.  We were talking about her gospel roots – she first sang publicly at age 4 – when she suddenly broke into song, with quiet and sensual intensity.

As the attention-jostling hype becomes ever more unashamed, we get further from the music. The myths and the 'message' get louder, to the point where the question of whether the music itself might actually be worth hearing can become secondary. I've seen music industry people this year happy to treat live music as a "hang" – in one case that stays in the mind, the headline act at a festival – and to chat through it rather than to listen.

The acclaim of being the first to represent the mid-1980s AIDS pandemic in cultural form was a plaudit that none of those concerned would ever have wished for. With New York as its epicentre, and almost nothing known about the disease that was hitting at the heart of the city’s gay community, such early attempts were tentative, the boundaries between personal and political still rough.

As one half of the BBC Radio 2 Folk Award-winning duo with Ben Walker, Josienne Clarke released four superb albums, including 2014’s Nothing Can Bring Back The Hour and their finale, 2018’s Seedlings All. There’s an absolute clarity to her voice, as if it's some lucid if troubled body of water through which you can see to the depths, and the powerful forces unfolding down there.

It is late December and, as the year draws to a close, it seems that the global political scene is defined by radical divisions, out-of-control climate, growing anxieties, and simmering conflict. Metal legends’ Slipknot’s We Are Not Your Kind responds to the gloomier side of the world picture. It captures anger, frustration, and disillusionment and has been interpreted as an expression of the sour end of singer Corey Taylor’s marriage. However, the themes in the music can be read as a profoundly universal.